


Dance With the Devil

by dragonofdispair, Rizobact



Series: Smoke and Mirrors [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, TF Flash Challenge 2016, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/pseuds/Rizobact
Summary: Cut off from the rest of the Autobots, a single tactician alone makes for a tempting target. But even in this, Prowl chooses the location wisely, and he is hardly undefended.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Transformers Flash Fic Challenge using the quote "Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" by the Joker as the prompt. The featured character is Prowl. 500 words.

Cut off from the main vanguard of the Autobot forces by a surprise shift in fortune, Prowl stood alone. Beneath Cybertron's two moons, glowing in the sky above to illuminate the night, he stalked across the frozen sea of fused glass and melted metal that was all that was left after the intense bombing strike that had begun the battle.

He walked together with his shadow, the dark shape trailing behind him in the moonlight, perpendicular to his reflection. Innocuous companions, both of them. But they weren't what the Decepticons slowly maneuvering to surround him truly had to fear. 

Prowl came to a stop and waited as they gathered. The look on his face was bleak, and it cheered the Decepticons into thinking they had already won…

…and then the devil came out to dance in the moonlight. 

"On your six!" a voice rang out, a warning only Prowl could hear. Behind him, the heavy armored tank preparing to strike fell to the ground, gushing energon from a wound in a major fuel line from an invisible knife.

"I don't  _ think _ so, mech!" The shooter setting up beside a twisted pillar flew sideways as though someone — or some _ thing _ — had driven into him, knocking him away from his weapon. The gun shivered and rose from the ground unaided to strafe at the oncoming infantry, unloading an entire clip before dropping to the ground, inert, once more.

"Don't even try it," a cold whisper crooned beside Prowl's helm. The rotary almost close enough to engage in melee combat suddenly collapsed, howling in pain as his optics shattered. Their sharp fragments drove inward to pierce his brain module, and he stopped moving a few moments later. 

"Take that!"

"And that!"

"You think you can take me on?"

"Drop dead!"

One by one, Prowl's enemies fell around him. He never moved, not even to twitch a sensor panel, as the night air filled with screams. Stabbed by invisible knives, plating buckled by invisible blows, the glassy ground ran slick with energon as it splashed onto Prowl’s frame and trickled down over his feet. 

The last body hit the ground. The last spark extinguished. Prowl stepped over the graying frames like any other piece of debris and returned to the Autobots dripping with Decepticon energon; knife still sheathed and dry, and not a single round fired from his rifle.

No one knew how he did it. There were theories of course. Rumors. Campfire stories. But the soldiers' fictions were never as strange as the truth.

"You could have helped me, you know," Jazz scolded as Prowl walked into the communal washracks, which were empty as any private rack within minutes.

"You had everything perfectly under control," Prowl replied. "I didn't even get a chance to do anything. You didn't need my help."

"But you needed mine?"

Hot cleanser streamed down the shiny tiles on the walls and over Prowl's plating, washing away the aftermath of the battle. "Yes," he said softly. "I need you."


End file.
